13/01/2016

You can’t make promises anymore because search queries are only an enter away.

So I left and left the rest up to ricochets in the right direction,

paid in cheques and sat with discretion.

For four hours three radio plays in 4:3 ratio covered as narration.

The curtains were closed from action to station except for a slip of world to gauge duration;

the romance of running away

disappeared into transit,

into row yourself home again hands and, when I got there, I’d run out of land,

aground on the sea of all the change I had needed.

Clouds jumped from cliffs like kids from swimming pool kerbs

and came to rest in mid-air for all of an afternoon.

I stood. Saw it all. Stared from the end of the brigg holding on because I could,

not that I should’ve: it was a new power I’d misunderstood as the love of not letting go.

Let’s commit suicide like Olympic divers would,

let’s give in to all we’ve worked towards was a thought I did not think,

only in hindsight did this occur.

This is not pity (so put away your party hats) but a plausible clause for concern I thought I’d share,

a margined caveat note that says:

turn it in by Monday and we’ll tell you how you’ve done

as soon as we’ve worked out why you might've jumped.

My sister said if I ever killed myself she'd break my neck again;ten for ten, never a foot wrong and still clearing up after I’ve gone.Though that’s some satisfaction, ill misfortune she’d be short of ‘cos

I like signing her christmas cards and been my parents only son,

long enough still, anyway, to have done something proud of the name I state when jotting surnames first on every form,

single punctuated blots punched into separate boxes.

I pull myself back into most roomswith that full stop, wonder why I’d wastethe privilege of lineage inthe first place, so easily it was dumb,because we're not those sorts of sons